


Getting Tortured by a Short Dildo

by spys_written_garbage



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Denial, Dominance, M/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Submission, dom!Pickles, sub!Nate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 22:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spys_written_garbage/pseuds/spys_written_garbage
Summary: Pickles drives Nathan to tears by denying him nookie.





	Getting Tortured by a Short Dildo

Pickles and Nathan were boning. Not so frequently that it was a problem but enough so that it had become a habit, a routine even.

6PM, breakfast. Pickles was completely ignoring Nathan's hints at the table. Okay sure, he’s busy, he's not in the mood or whatever. A guy's allowed to not be horny sometimes, isn't he? some hours later, Nathan tried again, alone this time and they... kinda made out? or rather Nathan kissed Pickles's neck while _he_ looked at his phone. “I’m sorry dood, I jest kinda have to meet m'publisher in like five minutes.” Cool. No problem.

 

“Oh, jeez, I’m _real_ fuckin' hung over right now, gahd, I’m... I need a’ sleep this off." Fair enough.

 

"Hey, Pickles"

"Yeh?"

"You uh... you busy right now?"

"Fuckin' Knubbler, that selfish dildo's makin' me go over tomorrow's session so he can go on holiday early!" Sure...

 

"I didn't know you were friends with my dad."

"Guy's a real cool dood"

"I didn't know you liked to hunt..."

"Fuck Yeah! y'corner stuff, push a button and their brains explode and then ya cook an' eat 'em!" Despite how fucking metal that sounded, Nathan would rather shoot himself in the dick than go hunting with Pickles and his dad while all he was gonna think about was fucking the drummer on top of a dead deer.

"We even rented a cabin for the whole weekend!"

 

They were watching the news, Toki and Murderface drowning out the anchor on different arcade machines, Skwisgaar was on the end of the couch, probably also doing stuff, probably nothing important or interesting or anything that excused him staying there and not giving them some god damn alone time. Nathan was sighing a lot.

Pickles kept looking over to Nate, kept _looking_ over to Nate. With half-lidded eyes, he grinned that half-smile of his as he slid slightly down the couch.... and stayed the whole night with the guys.

Nathan yawned "I'm getting pretty tired..." Toki said goodnight.

He stayed another fifteen minutes.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed." Skwisgaar said he’d see him tomorrow.

Another thirty minutes.

"Weren't we gonna go golfing early tomorrow?" Murderface said they can go whenever they wanted anyway.

Nathan went to sleep.

 

They’d never discussed the details of their whatever they were doing, it was better that way. No need to think difficult, conflictive things and no time to do so between fucking, drinking, passing out, waking up, fucking, doing lines, fucking, passing out...

Now he had time he didn’t know what he did with before they started hooking up. He certainly never spent it _thinking_ before, and now he was anxious, uncomfortable, full of energy and without an outlet.

Nathan resigned himself to a lonely bed each night with the sentiments of a child being forced to clean his room.

 

He couldn't get Pickles to himself, not for more than half a minute before was kicked out so Pickles could throw up in solitude, or he’d passed out beyond waking, or he was with the guys again. Since when was Pickles such close pals with them anyway?

It was at this point that Nathan realized he hadn't jerked off since they'd started, either. He hadn't really thought about it before (no time) but he was, for a lack of a better term, being taken care of.

It felt awkward in his bedroom by himself. What did he used to do to get going? Just go for it? That... felt about as good as brushing his teeth. Look at porn? What sites did he used to visit? What was he in the mood for? Amateur, petite, public, ginger... Fuck!

Alright. Alright fine, that wasn’t weird, to think back on a sexual encounter he'd actually had before? it was more acceptable than looking at porn even! and it was vivid, it was personal, he could retrace his own meaty hands where his small, freckled ones had been; maybe they didn't feel the same but it was close enough. Wait, this wasn’t right, he was doing something different on the meantime, that’s right, his arms were tied behind his back, he remembered the feeling of sweating under the leather, his chest was jutting out as far as his spine could bend, it made his back ache and his lungs burn, he loved that feeling, the only thing he could grab were the ends of his own hair and ended up doing so to feel that tug, his neck was stretched so far back that any touch on his throat felt like a light choke hold, any touch anywhere was so much more amplified when he couldn't move and he just couldn’t fucking feel it with his hands around his fucking dick, it just.... FUCK!

 

For days he hadn't gotten past half-mast. Pickles was _not_ ignoring him, either. On Thursday, the short dildo put his hand on his knee for two seconds under the dinner table. The next day, while calling someone a wanker, Pickles made eye contact with him as he made a hand gesture that almost got him off that night. Two days ago Pickles was getting into the dethbus, leaned into Nathan’s ear and whispered “fuck me” between steps! But did he fuck him? of-fucking-course not! That piece of shit good for nothing motherfucker just watched TV and smoked weed the whole ride!

 

He was starting to get in shape. He didn't even know Mordhaus had a gym in it and already he'd gotten acquainted with every piece of equipment, knew Toki's schedule for each day of the week and even learned to turn the handle on the shower just right on his first try, and oh, Pickles noticed. He gave the singer a long once-over and bit his lip as he was getting into the hot tub. Nathan scowled as he scooted over closer to the son of a bitch. He hated it. He hated it. He hated that he was playing into his game, hated that Pickles could gauge his growing desperation so well and particularly hated knowing it would end eventually, but not knowing when could mean it ended that night or it could go on. He had to hope if he played his cards right maybe that'd be it...

 

It was the third mug Nathan had dropped that week, this time the coffee burned one of his feet, the one he kept hitting on the legs of tables. Maybe he could have held on to it better if he hadn't closed a door on his fingers recently.

The burn was bad enough to warrant soaking it in cold water. The colour of his burn reminded him of a certain son of a bitch's ugly skullet. When those dreads got long enough, Nathan was gonna strangle Pickles with them.

 

The second they were anywhere vaguely private, the drummer's back hit the nearest wall. Pickles didn't respond. Rabid hands were tugging at his shirt and jagged teeth were clamping on to a shoulder, letting desperate growls out between them. Pickles didn't respond. Nathan lifted him up and wrapped the smaller man's legs over his waist, they just fell limply back down. He pinned those thin wrists to the wall above his head, growls turning into whines.

"Put me down, Nate."

Nathan paused, lingered, breathed in deep and then let his band mate stand back on the floor, keeping both hands on the wall to cage him in.

Pickles was smiling at him. "Now put your arms down."

Nathan did so with a huff.

"Atta boy."

 

"Nathens? coulds you pass to me the salts please?"

"Why don't you go fucking grab it yourself, you lazy dildo!? I have to do everything around here!"

"Nathan no offenth, but you've turned into a shitty athhole."

"Fuck you, Murderface! You're the ones who are acting like assholes!"

"Ya _have_ been pretty stressed out lately, dood. Maybe y'should blow off sum' steam or smthin', ya know, go on a vacation or get s'more sleep."

Nathan's fists were shaking

"Or I dunno, bring some groupies backstage"

"Ja, brings de groupies backstage"

His lip trembled even as he scowled.

"I haven' seen ya with any chicks since forever. Yer' probably fallin' apart cause ya aren't gettin' enough action."

"It ament's healthy Nathens."

His eyes stung and his nose felt runny "

Are ya feelin' okay 'dere Nate? ya lookin' a little sick."

" **I'm fine!** " He ran out the door not to be seen for the rest of the day.

 

Where there once were organs, blood and bones, now there was only nerves, doubt and agony. He'd been standing silently in front of the mic for five minutes, the band had run out of ways in which they could ask what was wrong and were now just being infected with the anxiety that incapacitated their singer.

"Nathens, there's about fifty ladies waitinks in my rooms right nows and they ams goings to falls asleeps if I'm not back theres soon"

"Yeah, or they'll die of old age if some _dooth'bag_ doesn't let us go, oh, I don't know, _today!?_ "

That was it, he'd reached the absolute limit of how far he could avoid thinking and talking about a problem, and by god did he not want to think or talk about why his drummer was blueballing him to death.

"Nathens? we ams leavings now."

It had to stop. He knew he had to do something, and he was never going to figure it out without asking.

"Bye Nathens"

 

"Why the fuck won't you fuck me anymore."

"Don't ya have any patience, Nate?"

"Fuck you. I'm losing my god damn mind."

"That's tough, pal."

"Why do you keep ignoring me and why do you keep jerking me around?"

"It ain't gonna kill ya"

" ** _What the fuck do you want from me!?_** "

"Go to yer room. Take ya' clothes off and wait there. I'll come over when I feel like it."

 

Those couple of hours might as well have been fifteen seconds compared to what he'd already been through. He would have stayed sitting on his bed staring at the door until the next day and he would have still been grateful that it was finally over.

Pickles didn't knock when he entered his front man's room. He stood up for some reason, so polite. Pickles took a seat and raised his hand up at Nathan before he could join him.

"Take my clothes off"

Nathan's breathing picked up. Last time he tried to take things into his own hands, things went south real fast, so he pulled off the drummer's clothes like he was trying not to wake him, following those scrawny limbs wherever they lay, stretching to pull a sleeveless black shirt over his handler's head, taking a knee to pull a pair of old jeans down freckled legs. A hand came to Nathan's cheek, pulling him into eye contact.

Pickles cast a sharp grin down at the singer, taking his foot out of Nathan's grip and placing it behind his shoulder. Nathan shoved his mouth forward like a starving animal, his nose squeezing against a red-covered pelvic bone as his tongue did a full lap over the drummer's cunt, summoning a growl that shook his shoulders.

"Mmmmh. Nate..." Pickles sighed, his heel digging into Nathan's back and his fingers gathering all that raven hair into a ponytail he could give more precise directions with. The bigger man beneath him moved his mouth lower, deeper, higher, rougher. He couldn't lap his tongue hard enough. Whimpers were coming from between his teeth again.

"Fuck. Pickles. I need to-"

"Hands"

That ponytail pushed the front man's mouth back into ginger curls. One arm wrapped around one of the redhead's legs, the other thrusted black polished digits to where his tongue had just been, two of his fingers wrapped in smooth living silk. Way way in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware his hips were thrusting into nothing.

"Gah, Fuck... Dig deeper into me. I ain't gonna break"

Nathan's fingers hooked and dragged against the twitching walls of his drummer in search of a better rhythm until he was arching his back and falling back into Nathan's bed, the grip on his hair as strong as when it started keeping the younger band mate in place and without direction. Good? was that good? Nathan grunted, the tip of his tongue lingering on Pickles's cock as dilated pupils looked up pleading, _begging_ for Pickles to look at him again and tell him. He grunted again.

Two fingers beckoned the singer, whose hair fell free as he followed them on to the bed, to loom over his elder, back arched like a charging bull.

"Ya' gonna show me how much ya' missed me, Na'ten?"

"Yes. Yes." Nathan itched so much he could claw the flesh off of his bones, his eyes were open wide least he miss any subtle cue obscured by heavy eyelids.

"What ya' waitin' for?"

Pickles yelped as his lower half was tugged into Nathan's awaiting hips, who with shaking hands just barely had the patience to align himself before burying his cock in the smaller man with a slap. He didn't wait a second before he was pistoning into the drummer like he had a gun to his head.

"Awh, Fuh. **Fuck!** Nate!" Pickles gave a breathy laugh of absolute delight.

It was like he was turning into a werewolf. Nathan gritted his teeth and snarled, his hair bouncing and sticking to his brow, possibly too far gone to stop if he had to, possibly injuring himself, possibly drilling a hole through his fucking mattress.

"Goddamn!" Pickles's voice sounded like a skipping record. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

His rough hands couldn't clamp on to those hips tightly enough, couldn't bounce Pickles back to his cock quickly enough, couldn't fuck him hard enough. Despite all the working out he'd been doing, he was still hungry, still desperate. Pickles grabbed handfuls of red bed sheets and tugged them out from under Nathan's pillows, he'd become loud enough to match the singer's volume when his moans weren't being pounded out of his vocal range or drowned out by the loud slaps of their bodies.

"Oh! Owh! Fuck, Na'ten! Ha ha! Yeah! Hard! Hard!" Pickles drooled on to the bed sheets as his head whipped his head to the side, his tongue peeked slightly out of his smiling mouth and his eyes went glossy, probably not even noticing Nathan's hand clutching his shoulder to get a better hold of him and the way his movements were becoming ragged and out of tune.

"Almost! Almost!"

Nathan shut his eyes and scrunched his face, biting his lips and holding his breath. Just a little more. His lungs were so full he felt like he'd explode. So close. His muscles hurt, his bones hurt. Almost.

" ** _Oh, Nate! Fuck!_** "

 

Nathan's limbs shuttered with his breath, just barely keeping him from crushing Pickles under his weight.

"Holy shit" When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded foreign to him.

" _Holy shit_ " Pickles might as well have been floating on clouds, and he was basically sober.

"Hey, Pickles?"

"Yeh?"

"I need to go another round. Or er. Seven."

Pickles huffed. "A'right. I'm bendin' ya' over the bed. Just so ya know."

**Author's Note:**

> I ain't no writer. Don't be mean to me.


End file.
